Last night, I was snuggling with Squink at bedtime. We usually talk about things that are interesting to us and last night we had the following conversation:
Squink: Mom, do you know anything about acularness?
Me: What is acularness?
Squink: You know Acular, about the eyes?
Me: Oh, you mean ocular? and I don't think Ocularness is a word, though it might need to be.
Squink: Well, do you know about that?
Me: I think I might now enough, do you have a question?
Squink: Well, you know how some people can't see far, and some people can see close... so if people have both why doesn't it fix each other so they see normal.
I explained that it doesn't work that way, though it would be wonderful if it would.
NaBloPoMo 8
Friday, November 08, 2013
Thursday, November 07, 2013
What I like about me, or how I should focus on the positive
A while back I shared a post about the way I was feeling as the seasons change... it is a pretty standard thing and I try to prepare for that to some extent (with some years faring better than others).
In general, I think that I usually reside in a place where I am rather comfortable with who I am. There are things that can set me off on a spiral of self-doubt. One of those is alluded to in my post yesterday. I have a huge tendency to think that I am stupid. It is the one thing that people can impart to me that will render me feeling low, extremely low. I can recall the day it reared its ugly head and hit me in the gut so hard I wanted to fall off of the chair I was sitting on.
But I don't want to talk about that day.
One of the things that is my biggest source of pride and joy is my family, all of my family... I include my immediate as well as extended family and then include those whom have been adopted. They are all, without a doubt, some of the smartest people I have ever met, known and loved. Most have accomplishments that are not in the standard. My family includes Olympic caliber athletes, rocket scientists (at the dawn of the space programs), chemists, knitters, interior designers, artists, teachers, engineers, technology specialists, photographers, teachers, musicians, professors, and bullfighters to name but just a few. All of them excel at something that is unbelievably dynamic. I see them and am so proud of them and their glory. However, it is terribly intimidating. I don't think I excel at anything. I am often accused of dabbling, and it is the truth. I explore things and learn about them, I enjoy them, but I never ever excel at them. It is a rut of my own making. Nothing that interests me does so to the level that makes me want to excel at it. Which casts a huge cloud of failure over me, especially in light of the excellence of those I love...
I really am working to try to move past that, but I am not sure I can. For one, I am related (both by gene and by spirit) to some of the most amazing and excellent people. And then, there is so much out there to learn that being left in the darkness (of being a mere dabbler) seems like the only place to be that is possible for someone like me.
NaBloPoMo 7
In general, I think that I usually reside in a place where I am rather comfortable with who I am. There are things that can set me off on a spiral of self-doubt. One of those is alluded to in my post yesterday. I have a huge tendency to think that I am stupid. It is the one thing that people can impart to me that will render me feeling low, extremely low. I can recall the day it reared its ugly head and hit me in the gut so hard I wanted to fall off of the chair I was sitting on.
But I don't want to talk about that day.
One of the things that is my biggest source of pride and joy is my family, all of my family... I include my immediate as well as extended family and then include those whom have been adopted. They are all, without a doubt, some of the smartest people I have ever met, known and loved. Most have accomplishments that are not in the standard. My family includes Olympic caliber athletes, rocket scientists (at the dawn of the space programs), chemists, knitters, interior designers, artists, teachers, engineers, technology specialists, photographers, teachers, musicians, professors, and bullfighters to name but just a few. All of them excel at something that is unbelievably dynamic. I see them and am so proud of them and their glory. However, it is terribly intimidating. I don't think I excel at anything. I am often accused of dabbling, and it is the truth. I explore things and learn about them, I enjoy them, but I never ever excel at them. It is a rut of my own making. Nothing that interests me does so to the level that makes me want to excel at it. Which casts a huge cloud of failure over me, especially in light of the excellence of those I love...
I really am working to try to move past that, but I am not sure I can. For one, I am related (both by gene and by spirit) to some of the most amazing and excellent people. And then, there is so much out there to learn that being left in the darkness (of being a mere dabbler) seems like the only place to be that is possible for someone like me.
NaBloPoMo 7
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
Ennui is much more complicated than it seems
Tomorrow is Albert Camus birthday... I really just learned that fact but find it striking in that he and his works have been on my mind for the past week or so.
When I was in high school I loved the french existentialists and absurdists principally because it seemed like an intellectual and avant-garde thing to do among my peers, and as someone who has constantly felt stupid, it was a way to make myself feel less so as I navigated the intricacies of an American adolescence (and, if I am being perfectly honest, adulthood).
I think what spoke to me more, in terms of what Camus wrote, were the ideas of being a revolutionary both in thought and in action. He reminds me of Conrad (with the German bent substituted by the French). As I learned more about him I realized that he was a seeker, someone who strove to understand, in a deep and meaningful way, what it means to be a part of our universe.
As I grew older and manged to get past the notion that he was some french fop and gave his work a bit more consideration. I think that he wrote about the human relationship to their environment... at times challenging notions on things like love, religion, nature...
I think he saw that humans tend to find something they idolize (intentional or not) and they can, at times, do so in a completely absurd and self indulgent way.
I really know very little about Camus, as the person reflected in his preserved history.
What I do know is that among the plethora of literary works out there, he was willing to challenge a reader... which is something I value.
(update on 11/7/13 to add: )
Today, his actual birthday, I heard a radio piece about his Myth of Sisyphus and got the quote below in an email.
“Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.”
― Albert Camus
(I always wondered if this implied that autumn was secondary to spring or if it was another way to view renewal)
Tuesday, November 05, 2013
Monday, November 04, 2013
All is quiet on my Southwestern Front
Yesterday I wrote about how I enjoy... (shhh...) quiet.
I think that tendency came from my mother's side. We, as in my maternal side of my family, are extremely noise sensitive. I work with teenagers and I have a running conversation with them about how not only does their perpetual cussing cause my ears to bleed but also that I can actually hear them cussing from the other side of the building. There is a lot of truth in that tale.
I think my mother and aunt are the same way. We love quiet.
There is a gentle solace in being quiet.
I have found that if I can be quiet with people, the kind of quiet that involves being in the same space without the constant need to fill a void, then I know can completely relax and be myself with them.
Growing up in a big city with a perpetual city-heart-beat of car horns makes it very interesting that I prefer quiet. I think that it is because the city noise is limited to the streets and the tourist parts of town, at least in the city I grew up in. Maybe it is the altitude that seems to muffle the sounds.
The other day I was talking about hosting Christmas dinner and talking about how much I loved it. When asked what my favorite part was, I said that it was the next morning when you could still hear the happiness bouncing off the walls. So, I think that speaks to how much I love quiet, it turns out that I love the way it sounds.
NaBloPoMo 4
I think that tendency came from my mother's side. We, as in my maternal side of my family, are extremely noise sensitive. I work with teenagers and I have a running conversation with them about how not only does their perpetual cussing cause my ears to bleed but also that I can actually hear them cussing from the other side of the building. There is a lot of truth in that tale.
I think my mother and aunt are the same way. We love quiet.
There is a gentle solace in being quiet.
I have found that if I can be quiet with people, the kind of quiet that involves being in the same space without the constant need to fill a void, then I know can completely relax and be myself with them.
Growing up in a big city with a perpetual city-heart-beat of car horns makes it very interesting that I prefer quiet. I think that it is because the city noise is limited to the streets and the tourist parts of town, at least in the city I grew up in. Maybe it is the altitude that seems to muffle the sounds.
The other day I was talking about hosting Christmas dinner and talking about how much I loved it. When asked what my favorite part was, I said that it was the next morning when you could still hear the happiness bouncing off the walls. So, I think that speaks to how much I love quiet, it turns out that I love the way it sounds.
NaBloPoMo 4
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